"Instead of going the deuce knows where, I think it would be much more
sensible if you were to marry Lida."

Novikoff turned round trembling.

"I must ask you to stop making such stupid jokes!" he said in a shrill,
hard voice. It rang out through the dusk, and echoed among the dreaming
garden-trees.

"Why so furious?" asked Sanine.

"Look here!" began Novikoff hoarsely. In his eyes there was such an
expression of rage that Sanine scarcely recognized him.

"Do you mean to say that it wouldn't be a lucky thing for you to marry
Lida?" continued Sanine merrily.

"Shut up!" cried the other, staggering forward, and brandishing an old
boot over Sanine's head.

"Now then! Gently! Are you mad?" said Sanine sharply, as he stepped
backwards.

Novikoff flung the boot away in disgust, breathing hard.

"With that boot you were actually going to ..." Sanine stopped, and
shook his head. He pitied his friend, though such behaviour seemed to
him utterly ridiculous.

"It's your fault," stammered Novikoff in confusion.

And then, suddenly, he felt full of trust and sympathy for Sanine,
strong and calm as he was. He himself resembled a little school-boy,
eager to tell some one of his trouble. Tears filled his eyes.

"If you only knew how sad at heart I am," he murmured, striving to
conquer his emotion.